Monica immediately burst into tears. “Oh, but Berlin,” she moaned. “Oh, my work!”
Libba shot to her feet, shaking her head fervently. “My entire company is in London! Is that not due cause?!”
“A quarter share is lovely,” Malcolm put in, mostly to himself, “but I still have to put in notice at the bank in London.”
“I still belong to the Crown,” Elias put in, closing his fist around the golden ring. “I cannot simply abandon my commission.”
“No,” said Ruby, batting her lashes at him, “but you could sell it, couldn’t you, handsome?”
He grimaced at her.
The only one who was not reacting at all was Harriet French, who stood frozen by the window, glittering in sunlight.
She was staring not at Mr. Harcourt, nor at her fellow wards, nor at the Last Will and Testament, which now sat dormant on the glass table. Her letter hung limply in her hands. Her eyes, that stunning clash of bronze and brass and hazel and gold, were on Elias.
“These matters can be mitigated,” Mr. Harcourt said, raising his hands as though to stamp down the flurry of discontent currently rising in the room. “You have your letters from the baroness. You have heard her will. Perhaps it is time that we all retreat for a moment and rest and reconvene at dinner to discuss the specifics. Does that sound reasonable?”
It didn’t, as far as Elias was concerned.
None of this sounded reasonable.
But he did it, anyway, because this was Starling’s Rest, and reason was never part of the equation within these walls.
He did it, anyway, because he was home.
Chapter Four
It seemed toHattie that she had lost some time.
She was aware, of course, that Mr. Harcourt had continued speaking after the business about her being compelled to wed Elias Selwyn, but it seemed to her it had lasted only a moment.
She had watched Elias, across the room, trying to catch his eye, to communicate something of the shock they must both have been feeling and had utterly failed to capture his attention in any way. It made her wonder if she was truly standing in the room at all.
She did not come back to herself until the room had begun to empty of the others, making her utterly certain that she was standing in it, because she was about to be the only one left doing so.
“Ah, look what I found,” Malcolm exclaimed, withdrawing a little wooden sword from behind a cushion. He spun and pointed it at Ruby. “Saxon or Dane?!”
“Both, you nit,” she tutted, flicking the sword away with two upturned fingers. “Do you think our rooms are still in living condition?”
“They are,” said Errol quietly from the dark corner where Elias had been sitting, his eyes gentle and fixed on Ruby. “They’ve been ready for any of you to come home at any time.”
Ruby softened, turning to give him a tilting, half-smile, no flash of teeth or bat of her lashes. “That’s good, then,” she said. “Isn’t it?”
He nodded, putting his hands in his pockets and giving her the same little smile back.
“Ugh,” said Malcolm in disgust. “I’ll take my sword elsewhere.”
“That’s been half the trouble with you all your life,” Libba quipped, snatching it from him and ducking under his arm before he could take it back as she turned on her heel out of the room. “You can’t be trusted with it!” she called over her shoulder, giggling as she took off down the hall.
Hattie blinked again.
Now she was uncertain she’d ever left Starling’s Rest at all.
She looked down at her hands, stretching her fingers wide, and peeked down at the toes of her boots emerging from her yellow skirt.
She was an adult now.
Yes, this was all real.
